


Insidious

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Covering up Murder, Dark, Deathfic, Dooku Loves His Own Ass And His Ass Only, False Mercy Killing, Gen, Horror, Murder of an Ally By Mistake, Unhappy Ending, When Murder is a Reflex Bad Things Happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Dooku has called Qui-Gon to a meeting where they cannot be interrupted, to discuss why he thinks the Republic needs to fall. Unfortunately, somebody's Padawan could sense Qui-Gon's distress in the Force, and is good at locating the unfindable...And Dooku is willing to do whatever it takes to protect his own skin.





	Insidious

**Author's Note:**

> Courtesy warning for Qui-Gon fans: Qui-Gon is going to feel a bit less strong in this story than he was portrayed in canon.
> 
> Courtesy warning for Dooku fans: I have no respect for him whatsoever. If you do, this story might not be enjoyable. Take care of yourselves, darlings. It's okay to walk the other way.

 

Qui-Gon had no warning.

One moment he was trying to understand what Dooku was telling him, the next, Dooku's blue blade was sheathed through a slim figure that stepped through the door.

Silence fell over the barn as the saber hissed off, as the body dropped.

Qui-Gon could understand Dooku's paranoia— he was practically speaking of treason— but this was  _Obi-Wan._

The twenty-four-year-old had probably traced them to this barn and come to see if Qui-Gon needed backup.

His Padawan was certainly unable to explain himself, eyes wide and breaths tortured.

Qui-Gon dropped to where Obi-Wan half-lay, slumped against the once-again closed door. The young man couldn't meet his gaze, didn't seem aware of anything except pain and the sheer difficulty of breathing.

“We— we have to get him to a hospital.”

This whole area was comm-jammed, which was why Dooku had chosen it in the first place.

“Qui-Gon, look at the wound.”

He did. But it didn't  _matter._ “Obi-Wan is strong, he—”

“Not that strong.”

“We have to  _try—_ ”

“It's fatal, Qui-Gon, and it's going to take time for him to die. It's going to hurt.”

Qui-Gon's hands shook as he reached out to touch a paling cheek. Obi-Wan's head rolled in his direction, but his gaze wandered, aimless and afraid.

“Qui-Gon, there cannot be an investigation. You know what will happen if there is.”

Did he? His brain couldn't work. His apprentice was  _dying,_ and there was no way in hell to get him to help in time before the wound did its work. What should he be feeling in this moment? Panic, despair, or grief, perhaps—?

Alarm was all his brain could make sense of. Urgency, helplessness, a terrifying fog that if he couldn't get rid of, would leave Obi-Wan  _dead._

_Except he's going to die anyway._

His precious apprentice—

Hands covered his, pressing something into his palm.

Qui-Gon looked down, found Dooku kneeling beside him, Obi-Wan's saber in their hands.

“The angle of the wound isn't right for a suicide,” Dooku explained, voice gentle. “We need to make it the right angle.”

“He's  _happy._ He's quiet and happy, and he isn't—”

“The investigation won't know that. You're never at the Temple, Qui-Gon. Padawan, it will be alright, but we need to end his suffering, and we need to protect the future as well.”

He wanted Qui-Gon to  _stab his own apprentice._

Who was dying.

To make it look like Obi-Wan had done this to  _himself._

Qui-Gon tried to pull away but found his limbs weak. “No—”

“Padawan.”

And his brain, so overloaded with the impossible horror of this moment, responded to the tone that had meant authority throughout his growing up years.

“It will be alright. But we have to help Obi-Wan. You need to take responsibility. He's your Padawan. You can't let him suffer.”  
The rattle of dying rasps in a pain-wracked throat. Glassy eyes, lacking understanding, filled with an agony so sharp it drove the fear away. A cold saber being wrapped in shaking fingers.

Dooku placed Obi-Wan's thumb over the ignition. “Hold it there,” he commanded Qui-Gon. The long haired man found himself complying automatically, distantly realized he held Obi-Wan's shaking hand up to his chest, Dooku making minor adjustments to position.

“Help him,” Dooku commanded.

He couldn't. He  _couldn't—_

Obi-Wan spasmed in pain, head thunking back, eyes rolling up, fingers clenching—

Blue light exploded through his chest one more time, this time a clean kill, the light in the Force that was Obi-Wan snuffing out and leaving an emptiness in Qui-Gon's own soul.

“You did well, Qui-Gon,” Dooku murmured, guiding the dead one's hand to the floor, making sure the saber lay aright. He stood, immediately began obscuring all footsteps but Obi-Wan's.

This wasn't real. Was it? It couldn't be. Qui-Gon would never hurt his apprentice, Dooku would never—

He looked from the slack features to Dooku's own, now set in grim focus.

“Do you have anything that could appear to be a note?”

“What?”

“A note would be helpful.”

“Why would I have a note?” Qui-Gon asked, bewildered. “He wasn't depressed.”

Dooku kept on with his task. “Yes, he was, Qui-Gon. You were just too preoccupied to notice. You feel terrible, and certain there was something you could have done. You sensed something amiss along the bond. He wouldn't answer, so you and I followed the tracker on his speeder here. Just as we pulled up to park, we felt him go. There was nothing more we could have done. By the time we got the door open, he was gone.”

“That's not what happened,” Qui-Gon protested. “It was an accident.”

Strong hands drew him up to stand, brushed his hair back from his face. “It has to be what happened. Otherwise, we tell the truth, and I go to prison.”

“It was an accident—”

“Over treason.”

Qui-Gon couldn't  _think,_ his brain spinning like the worst of hangovers. He needed time, needed—

_I need to cry._ But he couldn't remember where he'd put his tears.

_Oh, Obi-Wan._

“Let me contact the Council. This entire ordeal has been very traumatic for you, my Padawan.”

He was drawn into a hug— since when had Dooku given hugs,  _ever_ ?— and a bizarre calmness settled over Qui-Gon.

If he had to live in hell...

At least he'd have someone to guide him through it.

 

 


End file.
